Some Deaths Are Small
by IQ of a Walnut
Summary: Un-edited. Short non-cannon piece between Ron and Luna durring his "sabatical" in DH.


AN: Strange little non-cannon scene between Ron and Luna during his "sabbatical" in the Deathly Hollows. Some deaths are small.

Ron Weasley was visited by the ghost of Luna Lovegood at half-past two in the morning about a month before he would meet her in a basement. He was sitting on his bed in Shell Cottage, fingers laced together and elbows balanced on his knees. Her sudden appearance in the room would not startle or frighten him, but he would feel some surprise in a slow, oozing manner, as though someone were pouring a syrup of it into his body as they spoke.

In the moonlight that bathed the ocean she was a pale, shimmering thing, but Ron found that he was more impressed by the beauty of the smile on her face.

"Hello Ronald."

He swallowed and felt something cold and awful slip into his stomach. "Hello Luna."

She looked down at her body then, holding dirty hands up to the white light—hands he could see her ripped jumper through—and a pair of eyebrows marred by cuts moved towards her hairline.

"I supposed I'm dead then."

"Yeah. Looks a bit like it."

"Pity. I think Daddy will be very lonely now."

"We'll look after him." Ron said this without thinking, and then paused. He hadn't been gone quite long enough to stop referring to himself as "we." As though there were other people to coordinate his actions with. "Well, I will."

She nodded. "Thank you Ronald. How are you?" It was probably the first time Ron could remember someone asking directly about _his_ wellbeing without a question of Harry preceding it.

He shrugged. "I'm alive."

"Yes," she said, as though it were a strange concept, "Yes, but you're alone."

His stomach twisted around that cold feeling. "Yeah. Just…I had to leave them."

Luna's ghost cocked her head to the side. Her eyes held no judgment. It was strange and yet natural to see her like this—body as loose and light as it had been in living, floating as though she were held up by a set of strings. She reminded him of a puppet hanging on a hook, waiting to be brought to life again. "I'm sad for that. I liked you best when you were making them laugh."

"Guess I got tired of being part of the punch line."  
>"Oh, I don't think it was ever like that. I always thought you were a bit like a preacher, reminding his followers to smile in the darkness. You know—the rock of the group, there to hold everyone's hands."<p>

He smiled at the ghost and nodded his head at her. "You look like you might have needed a hand. Had it rough?"

She pulled at the filthy, ragged clothes on her emaciated body. "Oh, yes. It's been a bit difficult. Bellatrix is rather cruel when she wants entertainment. But I suppose things will be better on the other side."

"You're a ghost though—doesn't that mean you won't go on?"

"I think I'm just here for a little while. Maybe to say good-bye."

"Then why are you saying it to me?"

"I suppose you're the one who needed to see me most. Some people find that it's the little deaths that mean the most to them."

"Little deaths?"

"Oh yes. Some deaths can be much bigger than others—like Professor Dumbledore's was for Harry and Mum's was for my father. But the little deaths—like Cedric's for Harry—can be just as awful, or worse. He didn't know Cedric well, or like him very much, but Ginny said it was the first death most anyone had experienced. And so it hurt them all very much. The big deaths can sometimes let you turn off your heart, or change as a person to adapt to it. But the little deaths are what sometimes come in and kill you in your soul. And I don't think you and I were too terribly close—you and Hermione probably thought I was very silly, but maybe my death will mean more to you than to Daddy."

Ron shook his head. "You're death isn't little to me Luna. It hurts very much."

She smiled at him, and Ron thought the smile made her face pretty despite the large bruise there. "I'm sorry you're hurting over me, but I'm somewhat selfish because I'm glad I meant enough to you to hurt you."

"Still, isn't this death a little strange?"

"A little. So maybe I'm not really dead."

"I hope you're not. Try going back to your body. Maybe you'll be alright?"

She nodded. "I'll do that. Good-bye Ronald. I'll see you again one way or another, but I think I would like to see you with Harry and Hermione, because they're probably quite useless without you."

And then she was gone.

Hours later, when the sun rose, Ron would still be sitting on his bed in Shell Cottage, back bent, hands laced, elbows on his knees, looking at the spot where Luna had said good-bye to him. He would not remember falling asleep, but come out of this pose feeling as though he had slept peacefully, without dreaming.

And then he would leave the cottage.


End file.
